Ita Est
by Wotcher-Tonks
Summary: drabble series based on latin verbs from final review. ask-Alec/Magnus "that glitter will be here long after I'm gone" rest- Luke/Jocelyn "he wonders if he should pinch himself, but this is such a good dream..."
1. Feel

A/N- You know how I have all of these multi-chapter work in progress fics? And how I should finish those challenges before starting new ones? Well, the plot bunnies don't listen. They are merciless. I'll blame it on my final exam review for Latin 1. We had to conjugate many many verbs, and those verbs caught my fancy. There were about forty-four, and while I'm hesitant to sign on for forty-four drabbles, I think this will be lots of fun. Oh, and I stayed up until 4 30 am, finally reading City of Glass. God, I love this series. Witout further ado-

* * *

Feel (_Jace)_

Running. Running. Running.

_waylandmorgensternlightwood_

Running. Running. Running.

_He could run and run and run but he'd never be able to escape this truth. This could not be fixed with a smirk and a snide remark._

Running. Running. Running.

_valentinefathermichaelwaylanddad_

Running. Running. Run- he stopped. He couldn't run any further. Panting, he dropped to his knees. His lungs were aching, and he gasped the air in like he was dying. He wished he was, because once he stopped running it came...

_loveclarykisstruthbrothersisterwrong_

Who would have thought the impervious Jace Wayland could _feel_?


	2. Return

Return (Simon)

Damn, it was strong.

He'd fall asleep and as he would fitfully toss and turn, images of red-haired girls and red-eyed demons and red-clad warlocks would present themselves over and over but none of them ever turned into a dream, because Simon was stubborn, even while sleeping, and his mind was set.

Not on his life, but on a hotel. To be exact, (as he always liked to be), the Hotel DuMort.

Now, Simon had never really paid attention in French class, (because Clary sat next to him and she was a subject to study all in herself) but he knew what "du mort" meant.

Of death.

Anyway, the dreams that were not quite dreams would fade, vivid scenes of creatures with supernatural grace and pale faces and catlike cunning and a lust for blood would play, over and over, until Simon woke up, gasping for air (that soon he would no longer need), blankets soaked with cold sweat, and one thought only- he had to go wasn't a choice either. He had needed to go back, he did need to go back, and he would go back. It was only a matter of when, and once he began waking up in the middle of silent streets (mere blocks away from his death) it was over.

Because Simon had never felt a pull so strong, a longing so fierce (not for a good band name, not for better vegetarian meals than what his mom cooked, hell, not even for Clary) and it would only get worse until he returned. So return he did.


	3. Ask

__

Ask. (Alec) please review.

* * *

_I was scared, I was scared, tired and under-prepared, but I'll wait for it. -Coldplay_

Sometimes Alec wondered about Magnus. Well, okay, most of the time, because everytime Magnus smiled at him, Alec wondered why Magnus had chosen him to smile at out of many surely more deserving people. And when Magnus talked about his cat as though he was an equal, Alec wondered just what Chairman Meow might be capable of.

Late at night, however, in the silent hours, it was different questions, questions Alec never asked (he didn't want the answer).

_What will happen when I get older?_

_He doesn't want to be shackled to me until I'm ninety!_

_We only have so much time left before he changes his mind, wants something more permanent, less fragile, don't we?_

He pokes Magnus awake one night, asks him how he stands eternity. _One day at a time, _Magnus says sleepily. _Now shut up._ Then he is asleep again, snoring slightly.

Alec lies awake and watches the faint shine the moonlight makes on Magnus's hair and the glitter trapped in the weave of the pillow.

_That glitter will be here long after I'm gone_, he thinks, and the thought scares him more than any demon.


	4. Rest

a/n sorry for taking so long to update!

* * *

_Rest (Luke/Jocelyn)_

"Just sleep," he urges her. He brushes the hair back from her face with a hand that ever so slightly trembles (he hopes she doesn't notice it).

God, he's tired. Tired to the bone.

He must be asleep, because this must be a dream, Jocelyn looking at him with such love. He wonders if he should pinch himself, but this is such a good dream, he doesn't want to.

Lightly, he presses his lips to her forehead. "Sleep." She smiles up at him and closes her eyes. Luke blinks, holds his breath, and keeps his eyes closed. He opens them.

It's real, he realizes, and with that thought, he sinks down beside her, fast asleep.

(When he wakes up, she's still there.)


	5. Frighten

_frighten- Isabelle Lightwood_

* * *

Isabelle was rarely afraid of things. Sure, she was afraid if the situation really demanded for it, but it wasn't worth the time to be afraid for small things.

Sebastian (she still couldn't get used to calling him Jonathan) was worth being afraid of. She hated and feared him, so intensely that her nights were full of tossing and turning and loathing, sweaty sheets clinging to her skin like the memory of Max, pale and still.

There was so much to fear him for, especially when she wasn't sure if he was really dead. He did get stabbed in the heart and spine, but if what Jace said was right, he had demon blood, and demons were considerably tougher to kill.

But that wasn't what scared her the most.

She would toss and turn and stare unseeingly into the corners of her room, and over the constant barrage of images of Max she would hear him, taunting her, saying, "_Out of all of them, you were most like me._"

And that was what truly scared her.


End file.
